How to do it, though? He withdrew his gun, and she might disappear before a single shot was fired off. Not that he even knew if that shot would burn her or mist through her like she’d done the door. Only one way to find out …
He had to touch her.
One step, two, he slowly moved toward her.
One step, two, she slowly backed away from him. “I’m sorry about your people, I truly am, but I need my men strong.”
Careful. He stilled. “Their strength comes at a very destructive price.”
“Yes.” She stilled, as well.
“And you’re okay with that?” As he tangled his hand through his hair, he stealthily took another step.
This time, she remained in place. “I have to be.” Tears filled her eyes, turning them into blue pools of sadness. Startling, against her paling skin.
Should he clap for such a stellar performance now or later? “We found a cure, you know. You won’t destroy this planet like you’ve done to so many others.” Another step.
Again she remained in place. “Yes. I know all about your cure.” Soft, gentle.
Of course she knew. Everyone she infected, and everyone they infected, became linked to her. She knew what they knew. Since AIR had captured one of her closest advisers—Nolan—and later healed him with Bride’s blood, she’d known before they had that the guy was on the mend.
Another step toward her, another and another. Almost … there … “Aren’t you worried?” He reached out, so close …
In the blink of an eye, she was farther down the alley, increasing the distance between them. Dallas almost shouted, “To hell with it,” and grabbed his gun. Only the need for more answers kept him quiet and still.
Damn her. There had to be a way to overpower her, here, now. Steady.
“Am I worried that the cure will kill me, since I’m the source of the infection?” She laughed, a tinkling sound. “No. But are you sure the cure works? Are you sure the disease isn’t hiding, pretending to be eradicated? Waiting for a chance to strike?”
Junior, the idiot, twitched. That laugh … Enemy, enemy, enemy. The hair-trigger arousal had to end. And what had happened to her tears? Her eyes were now dry, color blooming prettily in her cheeks.
“Yeah,” he said, determined to try again. One step, two. “I’m sure.” She wouldn’t bait him into believing otherwise.
All of Nolan’s symptoms had vanished. The desire to eat human flesh, the oozing sores that had covered his body, the gray, flaking skin and total loss of hair. And since the disease was a living, mindless being, with a never-ending hunger, constantly growing until it had outgrown its host and required the excess to be drained into another vessel, there was no way it could “pretend” to be gone.
He mentioned none of that, however. Let her think she’d convinced him. “What do you want from me, Trinity?” he asked again, even as he continued to move toward her.
“I wish to speak to your leader.”
Oh, really. “She’s inside the bar.” He stopped, held out his hand, expectant. “Come on. I’ll take you to her right now.”
Trinity shook her head, blond hair dancing over her arms. “You will be my ambassador,” she said. “I will speak through you.”
His arm fell heavily to his side. Dread washed through him, chilling his blood. “And just how will you speak through me?”
“I’ll infect you.” A return of the sadness, as if she cared, hurt for him.
She meant to control him through the mental link, he realized. Now he backed away from her. No distance would be great enough. “Not just no, but hell, no.” If she turned on the charm, if she sent her guard to hold him down, he would … what? Fuck! No answers. He had no answers.
Her eyelids slitted, dark lashes fusing together. “You will cave in this matter, Dallas.” Hard, determined.
“No,” he grated. “I won’t.”
“Let’s test your resolve, then, shall we? For every week that you deny me, I will personally infect one of your friends. Beginning tonight …” Without another word, she disappeared.
Leaving him alone with her threat. A threat he had no doubt she would see through.
Eight
The hunger woke him.
Terrible pains clawed through McKell’s body, first tearing out of his stomach, then ripping his ribs apart, then entering his bloodstream and turning every cell he possessed into a dagger. He hurt, ached, throbbed. Too … much … His fangs were sharpened, ready, his lips bleeding. He must have gnashed them in his sleep, trying to feed from himself.
He’d woken up hungry before, but never like this. As if he could die at any moment. Why had he now?
He forced his focus past the pain and took stock, gaze cataloging his surroundings. Small bedroom. Moonlight seeped past the slatted window. Pictures of Ava and Noelle hung on the wall. In them, the two were smiling, flipping off the camera, or standing over unconscious people they’d obviously beaten to pulp.
Mmm, pulp. The pain broke free, once again agonizing him.
Concentrate. Clearly, he was still in Ava’s home. He recalled coming here, insisting she doctor him, and then deciding to “nap” in her bed. Partially to piss her off, and partially because he hadn’t wanted to brave the sunlight again. He’d never meant to actually fall asleep. Had thought to put distance between them, yet keep her close, while his body healed and his mind centered.
The moment he’d climbed into this bed and realized that her butterscotch scent infused the sheets, his shaft had hardened, plaguing him, demanding he stomp out of the bedroom, find her, and finally have her. All of her. Body, blood. Devotion. He’d resisted, assuming the lust alone would keep him awake.
Lust he still didn’t understand.
Well, right now he did. Not only was Ava beneath him—mmm, beneath him—she was over him, beside him, surrounding him. Damned covers! His cock hardened once more, desire sparking back to dazzling life and chasing away some of the pain. But why her? he wondered for the thousandth time since meeting her. She was contrary, argumentative, violent, and determined to lock him away.
Because she had agreed to help him? Not that he fully trusted her in that matter. But no, that made no sense. He’d wanted her before her agreement. Wanted her for more than his master plan.
A plan that still involved using her scent to attract other vampires. No bloodsucker would be able to resist her. They would smell her, flock to her, and he could swoop in, capture them, and demand the answers he sought. No more hunting them down, only to have them run and hide in this world he hadn’t yet learned how to navigate.
“McKell,” Ava suddenly shouted.
Danger! She was in danger.
He was off the bed and rushing into the kitchen a moment later. He expected to find her injured or battling an intruder. Instead, she sat at the kitchen table, calmly sipping sweetened coffee.
“What?” he snarled, panting, hurting again, desperate to destroy whatever had scared her. His mouth watered, and his claws sprang out. He would rip into—
“You’re lazy. You slept all damn day.”
“So you are unharmed?”
“Yes. What made you think I would be harmed?”
“You shouted.”
“Like I said, you’re lazy. I took exception.”
Deep breath in, deep breath out. He swallowed the excess moisture and retracted his claws. Another deep breath, and he was calm enough to claim the chair across from her. “I was healing.” And he wasn’t yet at full strength. Besides the overwhelming hunger, there was still a twinge in his side where she’d stabbed him.
“That’s a lame excuse. Admit it. You’re lazy.”
Though he wanted to shake her for maligning his character, he merely studied her. She’d pulled her curls into a twist, exposing the elegant length of her neck. At the base, her pulse fluttered exquisitely. Mouth … watering … again … She wore a black T-shirt, faded jeans, and tennis shoes. Average clothing on a far from average body. Those curves were sinful.
“I’m hungry,” he said, voice raw, coarse. Too easily did he recall how delicious she’d tasted. How strong she’d made him feel from just those sips. How much stronger would she make him if he drained her? “Feed me.”
“No.” Another swallow of that coffee, her throat moving sensually. “And don’t forget our bargain. You don’t drink from me unless I say it’s okay. And I haven’t. Said it’s okay, that is.”
Stupidest bargain he’d ever made. But then, he hadn’t realized he would wake up in this pathetic state. And even if he had, food shouldn’t have a choice. Humans didn’t ask vegetables if they felt like being consumed, did they?
“Then we’ll have to go out,” he said. Now. Before he forgot himself.
Still calm, she blew into her mug. “You’ll have to dress first.” She sipped, then settled the cup on the counter.
He glanced down at himself. Shirtless, necklace bloodstained, stitches on display, bandage long gone. Pants ripped and dirty. “Fine. I’ll shower, and you order a pizza.” That would save him time and effort.
She blinked over at him, confused. “I’m not hungry.”
“I know, but I am.”
Another few blinks. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of this, but you don’t eat food.”
“But I do eat the delivery boys and girls.” Something he’d never attempted before, but Maureen—damn it, Bride Targon—during one of his brief conversations with her, had assured him delivery people were “tasty.” He only wished he could rely on Bride for the rest of his needs. Not for information, but for blood and sex.
Except, his hunger and desire actually waned at the thought of drinking from and sleeping with her. Ava, however … hello, renewed desire. He frowned. Anyway. He couldn’t rely on Bride for anything. Though she’d lived on the surface most of her life, she had never tried to blend with humans during daylight hours, so she couldn’t help him do so. Plus, her husband was an ass who wanted McKell’s heart on a platter, and rarely allowed them to interact.
“I—you—argh!” Ava pounded her fist against the tabletop, rattling her coffee and sending creamy liquid over the rim of the cup. Her dark eyes were blazing, and he realized she’d never been as calm as she’d wanted him to believe. She was angry. Why? Because he wanted to eat someone else?
No, he thought next. This anger was far too strong, too deeply rooted, for that. But he wouldn’t concern himself with pondering the answer; it didn’t matter. They were using each other. Nothing more. Learning about her wasn’t on the agenda.
“Just make the call,” he said, standing.
“Hell, no. One, I’m not springing for a pizza I won’t eat, and two, no one will ever deliver here again.”
“No one will ever know what happened.”
A muscle ticked below her eye. “How will you make them forget?”
“I’ll command them to do so.”
“And that’ll work?”
He nodded.
“Prove it.”
The Voice came easily to most vampires. McKell, not so much. He’d struggled his entire life. He could use it, but he had to concentrate. He didn’t know why.
Rather than argue and use up what remained of his strength, he peered deeply into Ava’s eyes, those dark, fathomless eyes, and held out his hand. He focused, drew on his resolve, his will, let it rise up and spill from his lips. “Take my hand,” he commanded, his voice low, a hum of power in the undercurrent.
A gasp left her as her arm lifted, shaking, halting every few inches, as if she fought each movement. Finally, her fingers made contact with his, and another gasp left her. And hell, he gasped, too. Such warm, soft skin she had. Where they touched, he sizzled.
His hunger intensified. Do not grab her. Do not bite her. He forced his arm to fall to his side, severing contact. Do not groan. “Proven. Now make the damn call.” He turned away. One step, two.
“Why didn’t you command Noelle and me to leave the woods that first night?” she said, stopping him.
“I wanted to see what you would do.” Besides, he’d had no intention of showing all his weapons during the first battle.
With that thought, he realized he’d always meant to see her again. What the hell was wrong with him? She. Was. Food.
At last, he stalked away from her and into the bathroom. Distance, that’s what he needed. And time to think. Like that helped before. Scowling, he programmed the enzyme shower, something he’d learned to use on the streets of New Chicago, and stepped inside. In seconds, the dry spray cleaned his skin, his wound, and even his pants.
When he emerged and entered the bedroom, Ava sat at the edge of the mattress, the bed now made, not a wrinkle in the comforter. She was glaring at him.
“When will the pizza arrive?” He hadn’t meant to snap at her, but damn it, he was on edge. And those few minutes apart hadn’t really cooled his desire for her. Still. Seeing her, being near her, eased him somewhat. Not the hunger, never that, but the pain.
Stubborn, always stubborn, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t call.”
He stopped in front of her, forcing her to look up … up … up. “Is this a power play, Ava? Because I assure you, you won’t win.” As he spoke, his own sense of anger rose. White-hot, blistering. “Do you think to keep me weak? Expecting AIR to bust in and cart me away?”
“No!”
Could he believe her? Yes or no, that brought up another question. “Why didn’t you call AIR?” Noelle had asked the same—his sensitive hearing had tuned into their entire conversation—but Ava had never really answered.